


Miles to go

by Dienda



Series: Push me Around [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Inspired by Poetry, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Sequel, Set after Mukozuke, Will delivers his reckoning, but uses events from later episodes, the science bros crack the case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1684460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dienda/pseuds/Dienda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Will gets out of the BSHCI, he sets out to lure the Chesapeake Ripper while trying to protect Matthew. Set after <em>Mukozuke</em>, but follows some events from <em>Futamono</em>, <em>Yakimono</em> and <em>Su-zakana</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miles to go

**Author's Note:**

> My lit major self got really carried away with this, _really_. But all you need to know at this point is that both the title and the general vibe of the fic are inspired by Robert Frost's [Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/171621) . Especially the last stanza: _The woods are lovely, dark and deep/ But I have promises to keep/ And miles to go before I sleep/ And miles to go before I sleep._

Less than two hours after Hannibal Lecter stormed out of the BSHCI, Jack Crawford walks in with a folder in hand and a thunderous expression.

Will gets hauled back to the privacy room.

Jack is stern and silent as the guard chains Graham to the table. When they’re alone, he opens the folder and pushes a piece of paper across the table. It’s a photograph of Matthew Brown.

“Three days ago Alana Bloom called me to say Doctor Gideon told her you were planning to kill Hannibal Lecter. We looked for Doctor Lecter and found him in a pool house’s shower room.” Now he shows him a shot of a cavernous room. “He was tied to a broomstick like he’d been crucified. His wrists had been cut open.” A photograph of Hannibal’s stitched forearms. “And he was barely standing on a bucket, a noose around his neck.”

Jack throws a picture of Hannibal’s bruised neck on top of the others and follows it with various shots of the crime scene: blood smeared on the floor; a piece of rope, a wooden bucket and a knife numbered by evidence tags; further images of Lecter’s injuries. Will stares at the pictures and keeps himself from smiling; now he can reconstruct it clearly.

Matthew did a beautiful job.

“Brown was standing next to him, weapon in hand. I shot him and he still managed to kick the bucket from under Doctor Lecter’s feet.”

The corner of Will’s mouth twitches. “It all sounds rather unfortunate for Doctor Lecter.”

He can see Jack wants him to be contrite but doing so would be seen as accepting the blame. Will has decided to take advantage of Matthew’s loyalty; Crawford has no way to prove Gideon’s words are true and, as Will is fully aware of, truth is of little value when there’s no hard evidence to support it.

Jack slaps the police report onto his side of the table; Will leafs through it with a frown.

“So you didn’t send Matthew Brown to kill Hannibal Lecter?”

“I didn’t ask Orderly Brown to kill anyone.”

Jack gives him a measuring look. “He denies your involvement, swears he acted on his own.”

“Perhaps you should believe him”

“Abel Gideon said you did send him.”

“Right, because Abel Gideon is the most reliable source.” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I said something angry and frustrated; Orderly Brown took it literally and acted upon it.” It feels like he’s throwing Matthew under the bus, but he knows that, legally, an overzealous admirer is less serious than two lovers conspiring to commit murder. “I’ve been under his care all this time, Jack. He heard me accuse Hannibal Lecter a million times; he probably considered it a nice thing to do.”

“So, he thought he was doing you a favour?”

“He’s just a dumb kid who tried to impress me, Jack.” Will groans.

“Just a dumb kid? Dammit Will, you had sex with this guy.”

Will wonders whether it was Chilton or Hannibal who told Jack about it. He decides on Chilton; he does love his gossip, and Hannibal was too angered about it to draw further attention to the fact. Will hangs his head and lets a blush colour his cheeks. Jack expects him to be embarrassed, perhaps even deny it; the man feels uncomfortable putting Will and sex in the same sentence, like a weary father. Will has no problem showing all the alleged shame Jack wants as long as it keeps him talking.

“He treated me like I still matter, Jack,” he whispers looking at his clenched hands. “He said he believed me, I’ve been shut out by everyone I trusted and, I don’t think I can― you wouldn’t―” He sighs and rubs a hand across his face. “I let this place get to me and then when someone offered me a kindness I took it without thinking about it.”

“This is such a god awful mess.” Jack sags into his chair. “We suspect he killed the bailiff and the judge at your trial.”

“What?” Will snaps his head up.

“He has a psych record. It took a while to find but we know he was institutionalised as a teen. There were no criminal charges but he displayed aggressive behaviour, troubles socialising, impulsiveness; he couldn’t talk to another kid without getting into a fistfight; his psychologists suspected learning disabilities. He was committed after he started ranting about death, and set his own bed on fire. We searched his apartment; he’s a big fan of crime books.”

Will shakes his head. “It wasn’t him.”

“I don’t buy it. You gave Freddie Lounds an interview about the murders and this happens. I don’t see how you could pass that as a coincidence.”

“I was actually trying to flush out the Copycat,” he lies easily. “I never got a response, ask Lounds.”

“Because he didn’t need to go to Louds!”

“It wasn’t him, Jack.”

“I think you’re trying to protect him.”

“Of course I’m protecting him; he had nothing to do with it. The bailiff was a measured, goal oriented display. It required a lot of planning and great attention to detail. Impulsive aggression and learning disabilities don’t go hand in hand with that kind of artistry.”

“He’s older now, he grew organised. His place was neat.”

“Jack, look at what he did to Lecter.” Will spreads the photographs “It wasn’t measured, it was all passion. He used things he found at the site.”

“He brought a dart gun and a knife, that sounds planned to me.”

“It’s all over the place, overkill. He probably didn’t plan anything beyond drugging and torturing Lecter; maybe he wouldn’t have even killed him anyway.”

“Right, if murder wasn’t the point then what was, Will?”

“Hurting him on my behalf. Humiliating him.”

Jack puts the papers back into the folder. “I don’t believe you.”

“You do. You already knew all of this; otherwise you wouldn’t be talking to me. I assume you didn’t find any evidence linking him to the two murders.”

Jack sighs. “Not a speck of goddamned dust. He took you into court but there’s no link to the bailiff beyond that.”

Will slouches in his chair. “He’s not a psychopath, Jack. He’s a disturbed kid who made the mistake of getting attached to me.” He takes on a defeated expression. “What are you gonna do with him?”

“He has a psych record; he may even end up here.” Jack stares at him carefully, gauging his reaction.

“Don’t. He’s not insane.” Will bites his lower lip and looks blankly at the opposite wall. “I know what it’s like to be processed by your co-workers; don’t humiliate him like that, Jack.”

“What do you suggest I do with him?”

“He attacked an FBI consultant in relation to a federal case; you have every right to keep him in your custody. I’m not suggesting you let him go, just keep him somewhere safe until all this is over. I bet you he has no idea what kind of mess he got himself into.”

“Somewhere safe?” Jack is looking at Graham like he expects him to go on about Hannibal Lecter being the Chesapeake Ripper. He doesn’t.

“Please, Jack. I got him into this circus; I’d say it’s my duty to see him out. I don’t care if you strap me to the electric chair yourself, please do this for me; put Matthew Brown in the deepest cell you’ve got and throw away the key until his time is up.”

-

*

-

 

After Jack leaves, Will stops the guard from undoing the chains that bind him to the table.

“I need to phone my lawyer.”

Chilton stands just outside the glass door as the phone is brought in; he has a smug expression, like he delights in the thought of Will scrambling to cover his own ass. If only he knew what Will’s about to do.

The phone is an old and heavy rotary dial monstrosity; Chilton’s not allowed to record legal calls ―probably the only rule he abides― and a heavy handset and a noisy connection are his way of being petty about it. The guard dials Mr. Brauer’s number and waits; when someone picks up; he explains the call, handles the receiver to Will and exits the room. Chilton has already left; that he can’t tap the phone doesn’t mean he won’t turn the ―also illegal― microphone on.

“Mr. Graham?” asks Brauer at the other end of the line.

“I’m sorry about this,” mutters Will before pressing the switch hook to end the call.

One of the things Will has never said to anyone is that empathy is not the only uncommon thing about his mind. The prosecutor at his trial called it a ‘remarkable visual memory’ but it goes beyond that; he has an eidetic memory. He was never formally diagnosed but his worried, desperate research as a teen and a lifetime of nightmares have made it abundantly clear. It’s the reason he can’t let go of all the death he’s let inside himself. It’s the reason he was able to remember the whole extent of Hannibal’s abuse.

Will closes his eyes and brings to the front of his mind the police report on Matthew’s arrest. He keeps pressing the switch hook time and time again as he recalls the details: Matthew Brown was arrested three nights ago at a Baltimore pool house; he was shot in the shoulder and taken to a hospital in town. It’s the same hospital they kept Abigail in. Will looks the room number in his memory of the place; the FBI keeps to a familiar area with familiar staff; Matthew’s room is just down the hall from Abigail’s, across from the nurses’ station. It’s relatively quiet but the constant racket at the desk will mask the ringing of the room’s phone; the bored guard outside won’t hear it.

He finally gets a dial tone and hurries to spin the rotary disk. He spent enough time in Abigail’s room; made enough calls to check on her while Alana was keeping an eye on the girl, to know how to dial a direct call.

Matthew answers on the second ring.

“Yes?” he whispers carefully.

“It’s me.”

“Mister Graham! I’m sorry, I failed; I don’t know how they found out.”

“Gideon. I know; it’s alright,” he says in a rush.

“I was so close I’ll do better, I’ll escape, I’ll try again―”

“Brauer, shut up and let me talk.” Will hears Matthew’s mouth snapping closed. He can practically feel the moment the nurse understands what he’s doing. “I’ll explain everything when I see you.” He looks at the guard outside; he’s looking lazily at the hallway, unaware of what Will’s doing; still, he hurries to speak, in case Chilton notices something’s not right. “No, it had nothing to do with the murders at the trial. There’s no evidence to link it. Just a foolish orderly who took my words on Hannibal Lecter a bit too seriously. Just a kid, no dark conspiracy to commit murder. I think it was impulsive. It’s my fault, he was close to me.”

“No, Mister Graham.”

“No, don’t say a word, alright?” he drops his voice to a whisper. “Nothing. Just be on your best behaviour. I’ll see you soon; I’ll find a way. Understood?”

“Yes.”

He hangs up before Matthew can say anything else.

-

*

-

The next chain of events happen faster than Will can properly react to them. Gideon is hurt and later disappears from the hospital. Jack comes to inform him the Chesapeake Ripper left enough evidence to exonerate him of every charge. Brauer makes a formal visit to notify him the prosecution has dropped the charges and he’s free to go.

He brings up the phone call. “Anything I need to know?”

“No.”

“Good, then pack your bags, I’ll get the paperwork done in no time.”

He even gets an amused farewell from Chilton before Jack shows up to offer him a drive that’s actually a request to go to a crime scene. Miriam Lass has been found alive.

-

*

-

“I’ll drive you home,” says Jack as they leave the site where Miriam was found. Will knows all the forensic work will be in vain; they’ll only find what the Ripper wants them to find.

“I want to see Matthew Brown.”

“Why?”

“I told you, I feel responsible for him. I don’t know, Jack, I don’t want him to throw his life away because of me. He obviously listens to me; maybe I can help him get himself together.”

“Right.”

“Where is he?”

Crawford gives him a long side glance.

“Holding facility in Fredericksburg; it was a bitch to move him to Virginia but Baltimore’s a bit overcrowded.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

The older agent agrees to take him to see Matthew the next morning. Will relaxes against the car seat and stares out the window until the trees start to become more and more familiar.

Alana is waiting for him with his dogs and Will feels a pang of painful joy at seeing them; they’re the dearest ―the only― thing he has and he missed them savagely. Alana is cold and awkward with him, and he can’t help being bitter and frustrated that she refuses to listen to him, that she won’t let him protect her.

Finally, Will takes a shower in his own bathroom and sleeps in his own bed. He feels like an eternity has gone by since that last night; he feels ancient and worn. He falls into a deep slumber for the first time in months.

 

Next morning Jack keeps his promise and picks Graham up first thing in the morning. They drive out to the facility in tense silence. Will feels Jack’s attention like a physical force; he’ll have to thread carefully and hope Matthew remembers to play along.

“Mister Graham, you’re free,” Matthew breathes with an awed smile. He looks pale and tired, the harsh light makes him seem thinner, younger. “You look good.”

“Hey Matt.” Will sits down. He gets an almost surreal feeling; the man in front of him seems so changed here, like he’s different from the orderly at Chilton’s hospital. He reminds himself that he’s seen this man whole, knows the feel and the taste of his skin, the truth of his nature.

“I’m sorry,” says Matthew, lisp in place.

Will gives him a small smile; he shouldn’t have worried about the man playing dumb.

“It’s alright.”

“I failed you. I couldn’t get your devil.” The words ring eager and sincere.

“It’s alright. I’m not mad at you. It’s fine. You shouldn’t have done it.”

“I wanted to help you.”

“I know. I appreciate it. I only regret you got in trouble.”

“Did I get you in trouble, Mister Graham?”

“No, you didn’t. I’m fine.” He sighs. “I’m here.”

Brown looks at him seriously, completely himself.

“He got you out, didn’t he?”

“The Chesapeake Ripper took Doctor Gideon, killed a guard, and left behind enough evidence to exonerate me of all charges.” He sees Matt clenching his jaw. “You forced his hand. You gave him scars.”

When the other man doesn’t look up, Will gestures at his injured shoulder. “We’ll have matching scars now. Like we were shot with the same bullet.” They were even shot by the same man, for the same reason. “Is it healing properly?”

Matt nods. “It’s fine, just hurts.”

“I’ll catch him, Matthew, I swear.”

“I’ll help you, Mister Graham,” he says, straightening. “I can get out of here; we’ll solve it together. If you give me another chance I’ll―”

“No.” Will shakes his head.

“Mister Graham, I don’t want you to―”

“Please.” He reaches across the table and holds Matthew’s hands between his own. “You’re the only one I can protect. I need you somewhere safe, somewhere he can’t get at you. Please.”

“What can I do?”

“Just wait. If we do this properly we won’t have to hide; we’ll both be free.” He makes himself stop before he makes Brown any promise he’ll be tempted to keep. “I need you here; just do your time and forget about the Ripper for a while.” He stares at their joint fingers. “I can’t visit again, but I’ll keep an eye on you, ok? I’m aware it’s too much to ask, Matt; I don’t know how long it’ll take me.”

Matthew stares at him for a long time before breaking into a lopsided grin. He winks. _“_ _If you_ _are not too_ _long_ _, I will wait here for you all my life_.”

 

“What the hell was that?” asks Jack Crawford when Will comes out of the interview room.

“I don’t know what you mean, Jack.”

“You know exactly what I mean. You’re making it very hard to believe this kid acted alone.”

“That I didn’t send a man to kill him doesn’t mean I just magically stopped believing Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Will makes to walk away but the older man holds him in place with a hand around his arm.

“What’s going on here, Will?”

“I didn’t use him, Jack.” He looks down at the floor and lets his face blush. “I didn’t.”

“Jesus Christ, Will. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

-

*

-

Will contacts Leonard Brauer, explains Matthew’s case to him. The lawyer agrees to meet Brown and call back after his visit.

“I’ll take it,” he announces when he phones Will the next evening. “Disturbed young man does something stupid for his crush; I love it. I can work with that. I mean, he’ll serve time ―he was caught red-handed, after all―, but I think I can get him minimum time. If he works those puppy eyes of his, we could even get away with aggravated assault, out in six months.”

“That’s good.”

“Great, I’ll work on getting us a trial date.”

-

*

-

The moment he sees Miriam, Will knows this is a waste of time. Her mind is not her own anymore; it probably won’t ever be again. Like the staged site, she was found because the Ripper wanted her to be found, and she remembers only what the Ripper wants her to. She’s a threadbare, hollowed puppet barely aware of the single string still firmly attached to her back.

There’s a purpose to her reappearance and it frustrates Graham that he can’t deduce what it is.

She’s also a stark reminder of Lecter’s manipulation. The man threaded along her mind like he did on Will’s, but in her case he did manage to destroy everything in his path. In a way, he’s lucky he only got framed for murder.

Will’s angry and anxious when he leaves the academy. He drives around Quantico without an aim beyond calming his head enough to think clearly.

He ends up in a small bookstore; rows and rows of books and a dusty carpet. He goes in and browses the shelves without paying much attention to the titles. Before he knows it, he’s carrying half a dozen books. He has a volume of short stories, but most of them are poetry. Wilde, Browning, Neruda, Frost. He guesses Matthew would be more enthusiastic about crime novels but they’d hardly be helpful in his current circumstances.

He spends all night awake reading the books. When the sun comes up, he drives to the nearest town and sends them to Brauer’s office with a note asking him to forward them to Brown.

-

*

-

The Ripper’s design becomes clear when Frederick Chilton parks in Will’s driveway, dishevelled and bloody. Will calls Jack Crawford, and tries to reason with his former keeper but they can’t get beyond the hysteric retelling of how Hannibal Lecter tranquilised him and he woke up to three corpses in his house.

When Jack arrives things go downhill; the older agent is as reluctant to listen as Chilton. Will stands on the porch as Jack chases Frederick through his backwoods.

A day later, Miriam Lass identifies Chilton as the Chesapeake Ripper and shoots him in the face. It’s been just over a week since Will was released from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

-

*

-

Will begs Jack to let him phone Matthew. With Chilton out of the game and the case technically closed he feels back in square one. Lecter framed Frederick as thoroughly as he did Will, not a single loose end. Brown is the only other person who knows; who believes. Graham needs to be reassured; he is alone and, right now, Matthew is his only true north.

“Hello?” comes, tentative, from the other end of the line. “Will?”

“I just needed to hear your voice,” Will says in a rushed whisper and regrets it immediately.

“I miss you too,” Brown says with a smile.

Silence falls, tense and amused in their respective sides.

“Doctor Chilton has been revealed as the Chesapeake Ripper,” says Will at last.

“Doctor Chilton,” Matt deadpans.

“The forensic evidence was abundant and undeniable.”

“Chilton couldn’t kill a fly if he tried,” he scoffs.

“Apparently he just did, including Gideon.”

“What now?”

“He’s going to get away with it.”

“No. You’ll catch him. You’re better than him.”

Will sighs and rubs at his eyes. They go quiet once more.

“Hey, did you get the books?”

“ _He gathers earth's whole good into his arms; standing, as man now, stately, strong and wise, marching to fortune, not surprised by her_.”

Will doesn’t trust himself to speak so he hangs up without another word.

-

*

-

Graham doesn’t have to find a way to approach Lecter. The man himself appears outside his door one Thursday morning. The dogs start barking and a moment later he hears the Bentley as its driver stops the engine. He comes out to the porch and closes the door behind him.

“Good morning, Will,” Hannibal greets him with a smile.

“What are you doing here, Doctor?”

The dogs gather around the new guest before scattering around the house.

“Just a social visit. I failed to welcome you back when you got released from the hospital.”

“Right.” He suspects it has more to do with letting Will know he can’t get rid of him that easily.

“I’m happy your innocence was proved.”

“Yeah, I assume _the Ripper_ got tired of having me out of reach. I was starting to find a way around the chains.”

“Good thing he’s been caught. Doctor Chilton. Who would have suspected?”

Will scoffs and mutters “I presume not even Frederick himself did.”

Lecter ignores his answer. He adopts a chastised expression and takes a step closer to Will.

“Now that the truth has been revealed and all doubts have been dispelled, I hope we can resume our friendship. I insist; I want you to believe in the best of me like I believe in the best of you.”

“I wasn’t lying when I told you I am free of you, Doctor. I don’t think friendship is a possibility for us. I told you once I didn’t find you that interesting. I find you even less so now.”

He can see Lecter takes it as a challenge; he sees the hint of a threat in the way Hannibal inclines his head in acknowledgement.

He’ll keep the killer’s attention by denying him his. Will feels the tug of the fish biting the lure. Instead of pulling, Will lets the line run so the fish thinks he’s free.

-

*

-

Another parcel of books gets sent to Fredericksburg.

-

*

-

He goes back to consult with the BSU. Jack asks and he agrees because Hannibal Lecter is working with the unit now and Graham needs to stay close to know when to strike. He has to stay in Jack’s good graces so he’ll come when Will manages to pull the fish out of the water.

He’s at the crime scene when Brian Zeller surprises him with an apology. They’ve never seen eye to eye and he assumed that after Beverly’s murder the relationship would sour completely.

Will sees a possibility and, after debating with his conscience, he decides to risk it.

The activity around the scene begins to dwindle; he watches as Lecter climbs into his car and drives away. When the forensics team leaves, he follows them back to Quantico.

He finds Price and Zeller in the lab. After Jimmy offers his own act of contrition Will sits in the corner and waits as they process the new evidence.

It’s early morning when they’re finally done.

“Can I buy you guys breakfast?” He asks as they get ready to leave. “We need to talk.”

 

“It wasn’t Chilton,” Will says as soon as they sit. They’re in a small diner a few blocks away from the Bureau’s complex.

“I was Chilton,” says Brian with a sigh. “There’s plenty of evidence.”

“There was plenty of evidence saying I killed four women, remember? I vomited an ear, for God’s sake. That one was pretty convincing even to me.”

“How did he do that?” asks Jimmy with more curiosity than horror.

Will tells them about Hannibal Lecter and the feeding tube jammed down his throat. Even now it feels more like a nightmare than an actual memory.

“When he tried to hide at my house, Chilton described to me the exact same plastic suit.”

“He didn’t say anything about a plastic suit when he was brought in.” Brian gives him a guarded look.

“Think. He couldn’t have done it.” He sighs. “You processed him. He doesn’t have the physical strength to murder like that; especially after being gutted. He didn’t fake getting cut by Gideon. There’s no way he could have done that to the guard at the hospital on his own.”

Brian huffs out a bitter laugh. “Alright, let’s say it wasn’t Chilton. That doesn’t mean Hannibal Lecter did it.”

“Beverly came to see me at the hospital before she was murdered.” They look down into their cups of coffee. “We talked about Lecter; I realised he’s the Ripper. I told her to go to Jack.”

He repeats his last conversation with Katz almost word for word.

“Chilton,” he bursts out. “He denied it, but he was recording the conversations, even the ones he wasn’t legally allowed to. Do you have his computer in evidence?”

“Nope, laptop was smashed to pieces when we found it in his office. I mean, _smashed_ , we couldn’t recover anything.”

Will rubs his eyes. “She didn’t tell you anything about what she found on James Grey’s body?”

Jimmy shakes his head “We were working on a case.”

“Have you’ve been able to trace her last movements?”

“Nothing after she left Quantico. Her car was outside her apartment, phone inside.”

“She didn’t tell anyone where she was going,” mutters Zeller. “But maybe she did want to tell Jack. She was looking for him last time I saw her. I told her Doctor Lecter had called about some emergency about Mrs. Crawford.” He stops and looks at Will. “She asked if Lecter was at the hospital too.”

-

*

-

Will calls Matthew the following morning; he finally feels like he’s slowly moving forward.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” He looks out the window; the dogs are playing around the field. “What have you’ve been up to, Matt?”

“Not much to do in here besides reading and working out. I’m doing so many sit-ups you’ll think you’re touching a stone.”

Will lets out a huff of laughter. “And what are you reading?”

“ _I love thee with a love I seemed to lose with my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death_.”

“Jesus Christ, Matthew.”

-

*

_

Will leans against a patrol car as he watches the EMTs loading Clark Ingram into an ambulance. He feels bitter and hopeless. Peter Bernardone is as much a victim as the dead women but he’ll be put in jail just the same.

He sees a lone figure approaching him and tenses when he realises it’s Hannibal Lecter.

“What an unfortunate sight, man reduced a tool,” the doctor says as he comes to stand beside Will. “Very much like the man you sent to kill me.”

Graham doesn’t react.

“He was the sharpest tool I could find.” He shrugs.

Two police officers guide a handcuffed Perter Bernardone to a patrol car.

“All tools are discarded once they prove ineffective, or once they outlive their usefulness.”

“Yes.” He finally looks at Lecter. “Do you think I have outlived my usefulness, Doctor Lecter?”

“I don’t think you were ever a mere tool, Will.”

-

*

-

He doesn’t make it all the way home. He stops at a gas station and walks to the grimy phone booth at the back. Lecter’s comment keeps rolling in his head; it bothers him that he brought Matthew up in the first place.

It’s late and he half expects the guards will deny him the call but, three minutes later there’s a click on the line and Brown speaks.

“Hey, is something up?”

Will lets out a stuttered huff of breath but doesn’t speak.

“Will?”

He’s sure Matthew can hear his breathing, too fast with relief. Silence lingers as he stares at the dirty side of the booth. Matthew’s voice startles him.

“ _I like you when you are quiet because it is as though you are absent, and you hear me from far away, and my voice does not touch you.”_ Will can tell he’s smiling _. “It seems as though your eyes had flown away and it seems as if a kiss had sealed your mouth.”_

He swallows the knot in his throat. “ _Man finds in his silences that his fair language parches, scorches, jumbled in the throat, spent of meaning.”_

“Did something happen, Mister Graham? Are you alright?”

“No.” Will sags against the phone, shuts his eyes and laughs. “ _I like you when you are quiet because it is as though you are absent. Distant and painful as if you had died. A word then, a smile is enough. And I am happy, happy that it is not true._ ”

He calls Brown every day that week.

-

*

-

Soon, Will’s routine goes back to a shadow of what it was before. He doesn’t return to his post as a teacher, but Wolf Trap and his dogs are the same as always and, sometimes, he feels like he is indeed living again.

Jack keeps calling and he keeps answering without delay.

Whenever he has a chance, he goes down to the lab to work with Price and Zeller. They’re taking another look at all the evidence from both the Chesapeake Ripper and the Copycat cases, looking for anything that could lead back to Lecter. They’re turning every stone but so far they’ve found nothing.

Graham refuses to be discouraged as the weeks pass; he knows he’s playing a long game and he keeps his goal in sight. He’s bound to find something.

The other thing that remains as before are his nightmares. He still jerks awake in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and panic. Most nights he dreams of Abigail. Some days they are fishing in the stream and she disappears beneath the current; other times she’s bleeding out on the kitchen floor, that night he and Hannibal drove up to Minnesota. Her body is mutilated; chunks of flesh on the counters, in the sink, her ear sitting on a plate in the middle of the table. The rest of the time he dreams of deaths that have not happened yet: Jack, Alana, Matthew.

Tonight, the nightmare’s about Beverly. They’re both at Lecter house, sneaking through the darkness like he imagines she did when she thought Hannibal was away. They shine their weak torches past the dining room into the kitchen when the feathered stag appears in front of Will. It shakes its head and stomps on the floor with its front legs. Will can see the floor cracking and shifting and he yells at Bev to stay back. The floor finally collapses and he falls into a cavern; the floor and the jagged walls are wet with blood.

“Will?” She calls his name and he regrets bringing her here.When he looks up she’s climbing down the steep edge of the hole, like she’s descending into hell.

 

Will jolts awake.

He looks at the clock; it’s two in the morning. Still, he reaches for his cell phone and dials Jimmy Price’s number.

“Good night,” greets Jimmy after the third ring. He doesn’t sound asleep.

“It’s me.”

“Yes, Will. Is something up?”

“A basement.”

“Right.”

“At Lecter’s house. Did you check if there was a basement when you searched his place?” he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “It has to be a basement; he needs complete control over it and he needs it to be close to his kitchen―”

“Will,” Price stops him. “We didn’t check his house that deeply; Jack sent a handful of agents to check out the backyard to see if he’d maybe buried someone out there but it wasn’t really thorough. We focused mostly on his person; prints, DNA, clothes, credit card records, that kind of stuff. To be honest, Jack was mostly indulging you.”

“Could you access, I don’t know, the floor plans without a warrant?”

“It’s an old building right? We can request them from City Hall. Perhaps we would require a permit since it’s private property now, but we’re FBI, I’ll just have to file a form, no need to inform the current owner. I’ll do it as soon as I get in this morning.”

“Thanks, Jimmy.”

“I’ll see you later, Will.”

-

*

-

Graham gets a call from Zeller to meet them at the diner that evening. They’ve just started a case and they don’t know if Hannibal is going to drop in on them to review the new evidence.

“So,” he begins as he sits down at the booth. “Is there a basement or not?”

“Yes and no,” says Jimmy.

“There was but then it just disappears,” says Brian unfolding a print-out of the plans. “There is a space marked in the original plans of the house, and it’s listed as a cellar.” He shuffles through the papers to another sheet. “The building went pretty much untouched until the 40’s when it changed hands and the new owners did some major renovations; that’s where the basement disappears.”

Indeed, the new plans show no space under the main floor.

“Maybe they closed it off or were afraid about structural integrity.” Price continues. “It doesn’t say. Apparently Baltimore’s Building Department wasn’t at its best in the 40’s.”

“There have been other renovations since; Lecter himself did some important updating to the main floor, but no trace of the cellar.”

Will shakes his head.

“There is one. That’s where he’s killing them.”

“Well, we can’t know for sure without a warrant. The Ripper case is technically closed, no judge will give us a warrant and I don’t think we can go to Jack for a basement that may or may not exist.”

“There has to be a way to know; Bev found it.”

“We can’t just sneak in like she did.” Zeller glares at him. “It would be useless, any evidence we find would be inadmissible.”

“So, we’re back where we started?” asks Jimmy with a sigh.

“At this point your only shots are catching him in the act or, I don’t know, him inviting you over, greeting you at the door of the basement with someone’s head on a platter _and_ giving you enough time to call the cavalry.”

Will nods.

“I can work on that.”

-

*

-

Jack is inside the conference room, discussing the profile with the field agents. They had three young couples dead, and a fourth one was found this morning. Will is out in the hall with a cup of coffee and a stale sandwich from the cafeteria.

Hannibal Lecter appears from the elevator and comes to stand next to him. In the last few weeks, Will has made a point of being increasingly less hostile towards the man. They almost interact like colleagues now.

“Any news?”

Will shrugs.

“Profile’s going public in the next news slot.”

“That’s good.”

He straightens up and stuffs the remains of his sandwich into the empty paper cup. He pauses for a second.

“I hate to admit it, Doctor, but sometimes I really miss your cooking.” He goes into the conference room without another word. He can feel Lecter’s smile on the back of his neck. 

 

When he’s sure Hannibal’s left, Will goes down to the labs.

“I need you to start paying attention to missing persons reports, abductions, murders with mutilations or missing organs.”

“It would be really helpful if you could narrow it down a bit.”

“He’ll want to make it special.” He smiles bitterly. “Focus on people who fit my victims’ profiles. They’ll be from Virginia.”

-

*

-

Four days later, they close the case and he gets a call from Hannibal Lecter, inviting him to dinner. Graham sighs, like he’s giving in, and accepts.

-

*

-

“I’m having dinner with Doctor Lecter tomorrow night. Please tell me you’ve got something.” Will asks as he enters the lab next morning.

“Yes.”

“Maybe.”

“You said to focus on the Copycat’s victims, but we thought to broaden the search to people close to you.” Zeller and Price exchange a look. “We think there’s someone.”

Jimmy hands him a file.

“Michael Sullivan. Thirty years old, single, lives alone, works as a private nurse in Richmond. He was reported as a possible abduction two nights ago. He met his friends for drinks, his car was found next morning, unlocked; the keys were on the pavement a few feet away, under another car.”

“And, well―” Brian gestures at the photos.

There’s a DMV shot: short dark hair, green eyes and sharp cheekbones. The other photography must have been sent by the family; it shows an athletic, smiling man in swimming trunks. His chest and arms are peppered with tattoos.

Of couse, the man who got between them.

“It’s him.”

-

*

-

He calls Brown before leaving for Lecter’s house. Will hasn’t called Fredericksburg in almost three weeks.

“I thought you’d forgotten about me,” says Matthew as greeting.

“Hi.” Before the other man can say anything else, he blurts out “I’m having dinner with Hannibal Lecter.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause. He can tell Brown’s worrying just by his breathing.

“Don’t go. Don’t go; my trial is in less than a month. Mr Brauer is very―”

“Matt, I’ll be alright. He still wants me too much to kill me.”

“Please.”

“ _The woods are lovely, dark and deep_ ,” Will murmurs before hanging up. He hopes Matthew understands.

-

*

-

He calls the BSU from the car. Both Price and Zeller are still in the lab.

“I’m on my way to Hannibal’s place.”

Brian and Jimmy start discussing the best method for Graham to sneak evidence out of Lecter’s house.

“Stop. I only have one question.”

“Yes,” prompts Jimmy.

“If I walk into Hannibal Lecter’s house and shoot him in the head, you’d have to check the whole house, right?”

“Well, yes; we’d focuse on the actual scene but we’d have to process the whole place. You used to work forensics, Will, you know this.”

“Will? What are you doing?” asks Price, carefully.

“Remember the basement; look for a hidden trapdoor.”Jack already tried to take evidence from Lecter’s kitchen; he can’t trust the meal to be actual human flesh.

 

Not five minutes later, his phone starts ringing. He doesn’t answer it until he arrives at Baltimore.

“Hi, Jack.”

“What the hell are you doing? I got a hysteric call from Zeller and Price telling me you’re on your way to murder Hannibal Lecter.”

“I am.”

“You can’t just jack up the law and get underneath it,” yells Crawford. “I swear to god, Will, I’m calling every precinct in Baltimore and having them drive out to Lecter’s house.”

“Good, Jack. Don’t come alone this time. Get a SWAT team if you can. Tell them to keep their sirens off. Don’t worry; I won’t get away.” He’ll be the one to pull the fish out of the water but he needs a net to make sure his catch doesn’t fall back into the stream.

“Dammit, Will―”

“Hurry up, Jack; I’m almost there.”

-

*

-

Hannibal Lecter is in his kitchen, shirtsleeves rolled up. He looks up when Will enters; gives him a surprised, tentative smile.

“Will, you’re early.” He turns off the stove and cleans his hands with a cloth. “I’m just finishing the garnishes.”

“I won’t have dinner with you, Doctor Lecter.” He glances to the oven door. “I’m sure Mr. Sullivan won’t mind.”

Hannibal’s mouth twitches, a smile without actually smiling.

“I’ll mind. May I enquire why?”

Will takes his gun out of the pocket of his coat and points it at Lecter.

“I’m here to kill you.”

“Will,” Hannibal takes a step towards him.

“Don’t.” he shoots over Lecter’s shoulder. The glass door leading to the backyard shatters to the floor. He figures at least one of the neighbours is going to call 911, in case Jack doesn’t come. “Our last kitchen conversation was interrupted by Jack Crawford. I'd like to pick up where we left off.”

“If I'm not the Ripper, you murder an innocent man.”

Will shakes his head.

“I have absolute certainty you are the Chesapeake Ripper, I’ve just got no way to prove it.”

“If I am the Ripper and you kill me, who will answer your questions? Don't you want to know how this ends?”

“I know how you did it and I know why. I don’t care about hearing your side of the story. This is how it ends, Doctor.”

“Last time you tried to kill me, your tool proved incompetent. If you want a thing done well do it yourself?”

“I wouldn’t call Matthew inept, Doctor. I saw what he did to you; although unfinished, I’d say it was an exceptional tableau. Too bad you got lucky.”

He can see Lecter clench his jaw. Will starts reeling his line in.

“Did you consider that a win?” he asks with mock surprise. “You didn’t defeat Matthew Brown; you had to be rescued like a helpless victim. Sheer luck that Gideon decided to talk when he did, he’d known for days.”

Will can’t help being amazed at the change in the other man; it’s like he’s growing taller, broader. There’s finally something behind his eyes. He looks like a beast about to strike. Graham needs to make a crime scene but he also needs the blood to be on Lecter’s hands.

“How did that make you feel, doctor?” He leans his hip against the counter, gun still firmly trained on the other man. “You feel like God when you’re killing; what was it like to be killed? How did the mighty Chesapeake Ripper feel being cut and strung up by the plain orderly you never even thought to suspect? Did you feel stupid? Did you feel human?”

Hannibal grabs a knife from the counter and Will lets out a huff of laughter. He’s almost elated; he wonders if this is how Matt felt, hanging the devil.

“You didn’t tell Jack everything about that night, why? Was it something incriminating? Humiliating?” he scrunches his nose and shrugs. “Both?” He gives the line a last tug and waits for the fish to break the surface. “Tell me, Hannibal; do your scars burn when you think about Matthew Brown, when you think about me? Because, I assure you, Matt and I definitely burn with _something_ whenever we think of them.”

Lecter crosses the space between them in three swift steps. Will shoots once; the bullet hits Hannibal in the chest but fails to slow him down. Will’s breath is knocked out of him when he´s tackled to the floor, gun flying across the room. Lecter punches him once, blood exploding out of his nose. Will grabs his arms blindly as the other man straddles him and brings the knife down to his skin.

Hannibal pants and snarls like an animal as he cuts Will open from the hollow of his ribs down to his hipbone.

Before the Ripper can reach in and eviscerate him, the front door opens with a crash and a surge of steps and voices approach down the hallway. Will clings to Lecter’s arms in a week attempt to keep him from escaping. The expression on the doctor’s face is open with surprise as the men burst into the room. Will laughs breathlessly, gutted and bloodied.

He doesn’t hear the shots as the police fire; he lets go of the other man and allows himself to sink into the exhaustion that pulls his body down. He thinks, distantly, that he won’t get to see Matthew free.

-

*

-

Will’s not sure how long he’s been in the hospital. His whole torso burns like he’s been branded; although, he figures that what happened is actually worse. As he’s increasingly able to stay awake, he’s aware of being curiously devoid of emotion; it’s as if both his body and his mind have been hollowed out. He thinks that, perhaps, this is what peace feels like.

When he manages to spend a whole day without sedation he picks up the phone on his bedside table and calls Fredericksburg.

“Mister Graham,” Brown’s voice is urgent, ecstatic. “You got your devil. Mr. Brauer told me you got hurt but he didn’t tell me what happened. Are you alright?”

Will clutches the receiver in his hand and stares at the ceiling. It hurts to talk.

“ _I give the fight up: let there be an end, a privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God_.”

As he recites the words he wonders if he means them as a goodbye. Before he can decide, Matthew speaks.

“ _Tomorrow is our permanent address and they they’ll scarcely find us_.” Will can hear the smile on his voice, can almost see his eyes, tightly shut. “ _If they do we’ll move away further: into now_.”

-

*

-

In total, Will spends 47 days in the hospital. They release him a Friday morning.

Jack comes to pick him up. They drive in silence; they’ve had a dozen conversations since Lecter’s capture. There’s very little left to say to each other at this point. Crawford helps him in and Will doesn’t resent him. He understands now why Chilton needed a cane; he doesn’t want one.

“Goodbye, Will.”

They shake hands.

“He’ll try to plead insanity, Jack. Don’t let him. Don’t settle for anything less than lethal injection.”

“I won’t.”

-

*

-

He visits Brown two weeks later. He chooses that morning because it’s the first day he’s actually looked alive. He drives to Fredericksburg and waits in the crowded visiting room while they bring Matthew out.

Will missed the trial but Brauer informed him of the outcome with no small amount of pride. He took advantage of Hannibal Lecter’s arrest and turned an overzealous orderly into a heroic young man that chose to believe in a wronged, innocent FBI agent and, at great personal risk, tried to take down the Chesapeake Ripper. He got Matthew six months, four of them already struck as time served. Brauer’s advertising was greatly aided by the articles published by Freddie Lounds and her colleagues.

Will remembers her at the hospital; he woke up to the sudden draft of the sheet uncovering his body, still to weak to do anything but stare.

“You owe me the whole story but I think I’ll settle for this picture.” And she photographed him, naked and cut in half.

Brown is brought in, he looks better than he did last time.

“Mister Graham.” He looks at Will with joy, worry, and that unwavering devotion that never fails to make Will feel like the golden calf. “He cut you. I could have escaped; he wouldn’t have touched you if I’d been there.”

“You were exactly where I needed you to be.” He smiles weakly. “I’m mostly in one piece.”

“I’m getting out in 36 days,” says Brown with a smile. “When I get out we can―”

“I’m officially out of the FBI,” Will interrupts “I sold my house. I’m leaving Virginia. When you get out―” he leans closer, until his face is almost touching the glass. “I can’t abide any more death, Matthew. I got your hands drenched in blood; I’d like to wash them clean. You deserve better than this. I know how you feel about violence. If you can’t stop―” He straightens up. “I came now because I wanted to give you time to think about it. Goodbye.”

Graham walks away. He doesn’t turn around, even when Brown keeps calling his name.

-

*

-

Florida evenings are temperate but still damp. Will Graham likes to sit outside in a rocking chair as night emerges from the sea. He’s only been here a couple of months but he can picture a life here, at least a quiet existence.

Tonight, he’s out with a cup of coffee and his pack of strays as only company.

The dogs start barking and Will looks back to the driveway; a man is approaching through the purpling darkness.

Matthew Brown stops as he reaches the porch steps, a duffel bag over his right shoulder. They stare at each other without saying a word, the tide and the insects keeping the silence in line.

Finally, Will gets up and goes inside the house; a second later, the door opens and closes behind him. He points Brown in the general direction of the bedroom and goes to prepare the dogs’ food to avoid speaking just yet.

When the dogs are fed and settled for the night Graham drags his feet to the bedroom.

Matthew is on the bed, curled on his side, in his underwear. His eyes are closed. Will strips and lies down beside him. He examines Brown’s body; it’s thinner and harsher, his muscles are more tightly coiled than before. He touches the scar on his shoulder. His own bullet wound is a neat hole in his front and a starburst on his back where the bullet came out; Matt’s is jagged and puckered where the doctors had to dig the bullet out.

“It’s like you were shot through me.”

Matthew opens his eyes.

“I was.” He looks down at Will´s stomach. The cut’s still ugly and angry. “Can I touch it?”

Will nods and the other man places his open palms on it, like he’s trying to erase it.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“Only the flesh.”

He thinks _‘it doesn’t hurt at all when you do that’_ but doesn’t say it. Instead, he stares at the new tattoo on Brown’s chest: a lopsided ‘W’ on the left side of his ribs. The ink is dark and precise; this wasn’t done in jail. It’s neither bigger nor smaller than the other letters on his skin but, when Will covers it with his fingertip he can feel Matthew’s heart beating underneath.

“You stupid thing,” he murmurs without any real heat. “Are you staying?”

“I don’t know.” He can see Matthew grow serious, almost fearful; his eyes are wide, make him look younger still. “It depends.”

“Matt, I meant it.” Will thinks he’s about to tell him he can’t stop killing; he’ll beg to be accepted as is and Will doesn’t know if he has the heart to deny him. “I won’t―”

Before he can continue, Matthew reaches out and covers his mouth with the palm of his hand. He starts but doesn’t try to pull away.

“It’s not that.” He’s staring at Will like it hurts to look at him. “ _O, were I loved as I desire to be! What is there in the great sphere of the earth, or range of evil between death and birth, that I should fear, - if I were loved by thee.”_ Matthew’s heartbeat jumps in the hollow of his throat, fluttering black and blue in the pale moonlight. “I know you saw it as a trade, before, in the hospital. I don’t want it to be like that; you owe me nothing. If you don’t want me I’ll leave, I’ll find my own place, Mister Graham. It’s alright.”

Matthew draws his hand away.

Will remains silent.

This is an out he ought to take. He knows the sensible thing to do ―the right thing to do― is to let him down, to keep him at arm’s length. The both of them would be better off. He got this kid tangled in his mess, drenched him in blood, took advantage of his love and nearly destroyed his life. Matthew can hope for something better; he has no need to drag a damaged man around. Will’s never played well with others, not even when he wanted to; he’s always been alone, he can get used to it again. If he takes this now he won’t be able to let go when it doesn’t work out.

And yet, instead of rejecting him, Will curls his hand on the back of Matthew’s neck and fills the space between them with a kiss.

“ _Ask me no more: thy fate and mine are seal'd._ _I strove against the stream and all in vain: let the great river take me to the main. No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield; ask me no more_.” He whispers it into Matt’s mouth, against his hair, into his ear.

Their bodies come together, like the shore and the sea outside, made one beneath the sheltering sky.

**Author's Note:**

> List of references in order of appearance:
> 
> Matthew quotes Oscar Wilde's [The Importance of Being Earnest](http://www.gutenberg.org/files/844/844-h/844-h.htm) in the interrogation room.
> 
> Robert Browning's [Colombe's birthday, Act IV](http://www.telelib.com/authors/B/BrowningRobert/play/colombesbirthday/colombesbday04.html)
> 
> Elizabeth Barret Browning's [Sonnet 43 How do I love thee?](http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/how-do-i-love-thee-sonnet-43)
> 
> Pablo Neruda's [Poem XV](http://www.redpoppy.net/poem3.php)
> 
> José Gorostiza's [Death Without End](http://www.muertesinfin.com.mx/poem.html)
> 
> Robert Browning's [Paracelsus, Part V](http://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/b/browning/robert/paracelsus/part5.html)
> 
> E. E. Cummings' [All Ignorance Toboggans Into Know](http://www.poemhunter.com/best-poems/edward-estlin-cummings-3/all-ignorance-toboggans-into-know/)
> 
> Alfred Lord Tennyson's [O. Were I as Loved as I Desire to Be!](http://allpoetry.com/poem/8473179-O--Were-I-Loved-As-I-Desire-To-Be--by-Alfred-Lord-Tennyson) and [Ask Me No More](http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ask-me-no-more/)


End file.
